


Metaphors

by imaginationtherapy



Series: The Kaleidoscope Project [29]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Mania, Mental Illness, Poetry, Prose Poem, bipolar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 16:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17124752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationtherapy/pseuds/imaginationtherapy
Summary: Metaphorically speaking, this is how it feels.





	Metaphors

Depression is a prison: colorless walls and shapeless bricks. It is the death of emotions: no joy nor sadness, delight nor distaste. It is empty and formless. It is neither cold nor hot. Neither friend nor foe walks the halls in which you are trapped. To even feel hatred or sadness would be a blessing. To feel the touch of an enemy would be delight. It is a nothingness that threatens to swallow you whole. 

Sadness is a bleary, blue color. It tinges the edges of your vision, like raindrops on your windshield. It does not blot out the colors of the fall leaves as you drive by, rather it blurs them together like tears smudge makeup. Sadness makes it harder to see the sunlight, but it does not obscure it completely. A flash of color or friend can break through, wiping the drops from your windshield with an unexpected smile.   
Sadness is not a prison.

 

Mania is a tyrant: incessant orders and abusive praise. It is a cacophony of emotions: shrieking and tumbling over your soul with no rhyme nor reason, demanding to be heard. It is full of life and glittering lies, coaxing and seducing you with promises of invincibility. It is a wicked dance that promises to whirl with you in the face of oncoming traffic; unharmed.

Joy is a warm, yellow color. It brightens the corners of your day, like sunflowers hidden in the corner of the field. It does not overpower the beauty of the wheat and alfalfa, rather it enhances them with it’s encouraging glow. Joy does not steal the sacredness of sorrow, but it reminds you that there is contentment and hope to be found in the morrow.  
Joy is not a tyrant.


End file.
